


Neme-Quest

by HypetrainHime



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Other, Slice of Life, so now you get the writing, that slowly escalates into something more, this was supposed to be a dating sim but I can't program
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-08-07 14:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HypetrainHime/pseuds/HypetrainHime
Summary: Sometimes our leaders make the right choices. Sometimes they don't. What happens if Ultra Magnus dismisses Optimus from the Autobots after the Elita-One incident instead of putting him on space bridge detail?





	1. Rent Money

He was on his last fifty shanix.

The former Prime sat in his dingy box of an apartment, staring down at his beat up table shoved against the wall. On it lay the last of his savings, most of which was going to go towards rent. The neon lights by his window flickered, casting its sharp light on his dismal situation.

Another cycle, another failed attempt at finding jobs. Time was running out, and the due date for rent was fast approaching. Unless something came up, he would not even have this glorified closet to recharge in soon. The place where his autobrand had been still ached, not physically but the fact that it wasn’t THERE anymore pained him.

How many cycles since he’d been dismissed from the Academy? He’d started to lose count.

Optimus had managed to snag this place. Iacon had proven to be too expensive for a dishonorably discharged defective like him, so he'd downgraded.

Really...really downgraded.

That was how Optimus had found himself in this backalley apartment in downtown Kaon. Full of pests and holes, the building itself wasn’t much to look at. Peeling paint covered the exterior, with faded signs advertising cheap rent and decent living... But even the pests that dared to hide under the floors had to be desperate to shack up here.

Times were tough. Optimus struggled to get even the most temporary of jobs, as most positions were either life threatening or suspiciously generous. Usually, they were both. A cleancut young mech like him was often chopped up for parts or just used to run illegal materials.

Even then, no one here trusted an Iacon forged bot. His identity stuck to him like the nanite paint on his chestplates. A lot of questions came up when he applied to the jobs. Usually, they were around the lines of "You lost, brat?" or the ever popular "You SURE you ain't a cop?" Sure, the landlord had found him out on the streets, and had heard him out. Hell, he’d even been fairly sympathetic to his plight and let him stay there at a reduced price. Even then, rent was rent, and it was due when he asked for it. He’d made that VERY clear. And now 40 hard-earned shanix were going to go to keeping a roof over his head and out of the acid rains.

Optimus' optics snapped back into focus. Poor thing had started idling, he had been staring at the blank wall for a few kliks now. Perhaps longer. Who knew? Maybe that was the energon deficiency kicking in.

Enough sitting around. That rent money was not going to earn itself.

The bot stood up at last, looking to the wall covered in pinned advertisements for jobs. Some had been dead ends, others were still very much on the table. Regardless, Optimus would take a handful of the holo-snippets and store them away in his subspace.

The first one his optics landed on would be what he went to first.

It was time to go look into a position as a garbage bot at the Kaon Coliseum.

\--

He made sure to tap out his security code before leaving. No sense in letting what little he owned get stolen... Bots were desperate for any kind of cash, so even a barren apartment like his could be targeted..

Normally, he took the rickety lift down to the entrance. However, he changed his route without complaint as the apartment right by the loading platform was being barged into. That poor sap Leaky hadn’t paid his rent, so it looked like the Landlord was sending his enforcers after him. Since it was a common sight, Optimus wasn’t one to get involved. Even if he wanted to help, there was no way he could. He’d rather take the stairs than get between the overdue tenant and the massive bots beating the shanix out of him.

The commute through Downtown Kaon was not much better. It was either walk through the streets or take the cramped Passenger Pods all over the city. Optimus had had the foresight to purchase a reusable Tube Ticket to take him around the city for a long while, but even that was hit or miss. Literally. It wasn’t uncommon for vandals to put junk on the track, just so that the next passenger pod that came by would crash and burn.

Thankfully, no one ever put junk on the main line, which went down to the heart of Kaon. The only things down there were gang leader hideouts, ‘high end’ shops, and the city’s pride and joy, the Kaon Coliseum.

\--

The bots here were so much bigger.

Workers, foremen and so many shady characters (many of whom Optimus avoided eye contact with) gathered here to watch the gladiators fight. So long as you had the money for it, you were welcomed here as a spectator. The floors, immaculately polished copper, were maintained by maintenance bots and drones so that not even a wayward betting stub would remain on the ground for long.

It takes a while to get anywhere. The general flow of traffic is erratic at best, with bots and salesmechs moving and shifting position. Their bubble of personal space is all that exists, slipping past each other without so much as a ‘pardon me’. Among the fight enthusiasts and casual crowd, the smaller mech could see the hall that lead up to the actual offices that housed the announcers and management. A couple bots were taking refuge in the alcove, still looking winded from trying to navigate the rabble.

As he edged through the crowd and took a few steps down the hall, he froze as he heard, ‘And just where do you think you’re doing?”

He spun around, seeing a dinged up older model of a bot approach, covered in rusted over spots and pushing along a cart of cleaning supplies. On his chest was a polished metal nametag, on which was engraved the name ‘Rattles’. ‘Don’t tell me yer here for a job interview? Or are you tryin’ ta sneak around and try and fix the match?” Rattles jabbed his chest with the blunt end of his mop, glaring down at him.

“I-No! I’m here for this.” He dug the advertisement from his subspace, holding it up for the janitor to look at.

“Heh! I know, sonny, I know.” Rattles chortled. “Listen. You picked a real scrap day to get an interview. Don’t you know that one of the biggest fights is taking place today?”

Oh, Optimus knew. The fight in question had been advertised all over the city, but it wasn't like was terribly interested. It wasn’t like he could even afford to go to a bar and watch the fight on the holo-screens. “I... Didn’t realize.”

Rattles shook his head and looked back out at the crowd. “Listen. Go and get back out there. You won’t be getting ANY business done until that match is done with. Pit, the managers aren’t even in their offices! Go on, git.” He swept the younger mech back out into the hustle and bustle, ignoring his protests. “And try and enjoy yourself!”

\-- 

Despite his annoyance, Optimus would take Rattle’s advice and idle around the main hall for a little while, watching the comings and goings of the crowd. He didn't look too out of place, not like when he’d first showed up. After all, he was just as scuffed up and shabby as most of the working c lass bots here. No need to be self conscious tonight...

Optimus' eyes eventually wandered over to the betting booth. Tonight, the marquee flashed a very famliar advertisement. Tonight's battle was between the Wandering Crusader and Gal'thor Omega...two very popular fighters, yet complete opposites. That gave him an idea...

Seeing as he was here for a job interview, he'd been let in for free. Why not place a bet? A small bet, to be sure, but a bet was a bet. And perhaps he could even afford to stock up on energon with his winnings...!

The tightening of his mostly empty fuel tank seemed to make up his mind for him.

Optimus stood in line, placing a 10 shanix bet on the Crusader. The odds were that Gal'thor was going to win, but Optimus knew he'd win more betting on the bot he preferred... Besides, if he got the job, he could easily make up for his losses if things took a bad turn. Ticket stub in hand, he followed the flow of the crowd, ignoring his fuel tank as he passed by the piles of energon cubes meant for the spectators with shanix to burn...

\-- 

The flow of spectators was erratic when they finally got out to the stands. Optimus, by sheer chance, had found himself pulled along by a large group of workers and sat in the section closest to the arena itself.

The place was old, but had a distinct gleam to it. The floors, walls, and first few sections of the arena were rough cut stone and rusted looking metal, but everything past that was sleek, durable metal. The walls were covered in engraved stone and sheet metal, a crude attempt at ‘local culture’, as if anyone stopped to admire art in a place like this.

It looked so out of place in Kaon, and it was.

It had been mined in Kaon, but processed and worked with in Iacon. All the touristy bots and 'desk jobbers', as several miners that Optimus lived next door to called them, were the only ones who could even remotely admire the attempts at portraying a noble and proud mining industry on the walls.

The private boxes were above the general seating, reserved for the shady characters and royalty. Fliers, mostly. They either flew up there or were given their own route up, separate from the masses...

The roar of the crowd increased twofold as the announcer's voice kicked up and snapped Optimus to reality.

Sadly, Optimus wasn't in the best position to hear what exactly she was saying. The workers around him had started up a chant for Gal'thor, and refused to stop until the hulking purple mech had entered the arena. Gal’thor was a hell of a show boater, flexing and riling up the crowd with his trademark War Stomp. It involved him hopping around the arena, chanting something in an old Kaonian dialect that the crowd ate up. Even when he wasn’t performing his War Stomp, the ground shook as he walked...it set Optimus on edge. Such large mechs reminded him of the Decepticons he’d seen in the old holovids back in Iacon.

Iacon…He legitimately missed that place.

Just the thought of somehow working his way back there overtook his mind…So much so he barely registered the Wandering Crusader’s entrance, which was greeted with cheers from the rows above. He looked a lot more well maintained that his opponent, and even bowed to Gal’thor as he drew his weapon. His armor gleamed white and gold, and the longing and homesickness in Optimus’ spark only grew more prominent.

The local crowd was less than pleased by this mech’s entrance, booing him loudly. Gal’thor was a local favorite, after all, and such pride ran deep… Apparently there was a moment where the two taunted each other, as was traditional of gladiators to do. Optimus found it hard to really understand what was being said, even when the Pitmaster was out there with microphones to help them get their point across. The crowd was just too loud and energized, and showed no sign of settling down.

The match was already well underway when Optimus was able to see past his overzealous neighbors. The Crusader was on Gal’thor’s back, having jumped on to avoid being crushed by the other’s powerful battle hammer. Gal’thor was having a hell of a time trying to get him off, and only after rearing back and bucking with all his might did Gal’thor manage to toss his opponent off.

It was then that Optimus’ night went from alright to exponentially worse.

First, the mechs he’d been stuck between started arguing over the name of Gal’thor’s signature move. Both were powerfully built workers that towered over him. Optimus did his best to lean back as far as he could to avoid getting involved, but even then he could not escape them. A brawl broke out, just as the Crusader was inflicting serious damage on his larger opponent. The pair of bots in the stands had come to blows, and it was all Optimus could do to avoid being punched in the face. While he did manage to escape the immediate fight, it wasn’t enough. Only when one had a chunk of his jaw plating knocked out did security show up. A hard shove by an intervening guard sent Optimus stumbling back into the arena.

\-- 

The gladiators turned their optics onto him.

Just as Optimus sat up and began dusting himself off, the announcer’s voice boomed again. “Well! It looks like we have a new challenger!” The sneer in her voice was palpable. “Crusader and Gal’thor will now have to defend the sanctity of their arena by punishing this trespasser! I wanna see some spilt energon down there, folks!”

Optimus’ face was plastered on the large screens, and the audience was calling for his death… Good thing he’d brought his ax with him.

Still, a mere utility ax wasn’t really a match for a seismo-hammer and a plasma lance. But it was all Optimus had. Gal’thor had shoved the distracted Crusader aside, chuckling and raising his hammer. “Graahaha! Hold still, Scrapheap. It’ll be all over soon.” Was his tone supposed to be soothing? The hulking gladiator swung, intending to smash him like an insect…

Down came the hammer…and Optimus’ training kicked in.

The smaller bot rolled put of the way, dodging left and getting to his feet as the impact of the hammer shook the wall. Gal’thor lifted the hammer, confused by the lack of a crunch or splatter of energon…

“Gal’thor, you fool!” The posh, refined voice of the Crusader called out from the middle of the arena. “Cease your theatrics and destroy him already!” Already, the much taller mech was getting ready to charge Optimus, but thankfully his complaint gave Optimus enough time to gather his bearings.

“But why?!” Optimus found himself yelling. “I just want to get out of here! Why do you have to kill me?” He dove out of the way as Crusader charged him, tumbling into the dust as the taller mech’s weapon buried itself in the wall.

“Simple, really.” Crusader replied, pulling it out with ease. “Non-gladiators are seen as intruders here. You’d defiled sacred ground, and we can’t rightfully call ourselves gladiators if we allow you to walk free.” He stabbed downward, forcing Optimus to roll for his life once again. “Apologies. I don’t make the rules.”

“Stop being so polite to the newmech, Crusader!” Gal’thor was back, swinging away at the fleeing Optimus. Eventually, he decided to forgo the individual swings to instead become a whirling maelstrom of hammer blows. Optimus was hard pressed to stay away, especially since he seemed to be gaining momentum from the way he was spinning…

Thankfully, it was enough to get Crusader to back off.

Optimus fled, trying to put as much distance between himself and Gal’thor... when he got an idea.

Skidding to a halt, Optimus paused to catch his breath as the behemoth of a mech bore down on him... and immediately changed course, heading right towards Crusader.

Crusader, who had just realized where Optimus was going, put up his shield and took a stance to try and fend him off. What he did not realize was that Optimus was already in the process of sliding between his legs. The befuddled Crusader was distracted long enough for Gal’thor to come in, swinging his hammer and smacking his opponent into the far end of the arena. Gal’thor, in his rage, lunged after the other to continue his assault.

Optimus knew he had a chance to escape, to try and find a way out of this mess. However, he found that his frustration had lent itself to his choices, as he charged after the two confused gladiators. Cycles and cycles of just being pushed around and rejected were coming to the surface, as he jumped onto Gal’thor, hacking away at the armor plating with his ax.

What had come over him? Optimus didn’t know and didn’t care. His pent up anger and aggression were all being released now, unwilling to stop even as his opponents stumbled under his barrage. His arms felt heavy from swinging his ax, and his armor was dented and even shattered in many places, and even then, he carried on with his assault.

He must have blacked out after he had started screaming his frustrations to the world.

The next thing he recalls is him standing over the pair, both crumpled at his feet. While they were still moving and intact, he must have hit something vital. Neither Gal’thor nor Crusader were able to even really lift their helms, never mind actually standing. Meanwhile, he felt his knees tremble, as if he’d been running non-stop for an entire cycle. His ax blade had chipped and broken in many places, but it was otherwise still intact. He was dripping energon from somewhere over his left optic, but the rush of emotion that flowed through him meant that he felt nothing but numbness.

It was around now that Optimus heard the roar of the crowd. They were... cheering? Cheering for him? He cast his optics up towards the seats, and saw that nearly everyone was on their feet, yelling SOMETHING. It was hard to tell what any one bot was saying.

“Well, that’s unexpected! The newcomer with the broken ax has bested not one but TWO of our best Gladiators!” The announcer cried, sounding shocked but also pleased with the results. “What an unexpected turn! I feel pretty bad for ANYONE who placed a bet on these two tonight, because NO ONE but this stranger will be taking anything home!”

Optimus was dimly aware that bots were approaching them as his gaze swept over the vast crowd. It wasn’t security but the Pitmaster with his mic. “So!” The Pitmaster, a bright red wall of a mech said as he lowered himself to Optimus’ level. “I wasn’t expecting to induct a new gladiator into our ranks tonight! But it seems were have a rising star in our midst! You got a name, son?” He pushed the mic into the still stunned Optimus’ face.

“I... Optimus. My name is Optimus.” He didn’t think to add ‘prime’ to the end, since only now did he seem to realize what he’d done.

“Well, Optimus! You seem like you’ve taken a few too many knocks to the processor tonight so I’ll explain this simply for you.” The Pitmaster’s arm swept towards the defeated fighters, who were still struggling to get up. “You defeated these two.. .so this means that their lives are yours. You can kill them, take their possessions but consign them to an honorable death. Or you could let them live in dishonor and shame, but they will get to live. What’s it going to be?”

Optimus flinched back as the mic was pushed back into his face. Was this REALLY the best time to ask him these sorts of questions? When he was just coming down from the high of an intense battle? The shorter mech gently pushed the mic away, saying, “I... I really don’t want to kill them. I fell in here by accident, it’s not my place to-”

He was bumped aside as the Pitmaster interrupted him. “You heard him, folks! Even a random spectator can defeat our greatest champions, even if they were just randomly thrown into the ring!”

“That’s not what I’m saying-!” Optimus attempted to protest, but was met with an incredibly loud roar of disapproval from the crowd.

As the crowd booed Optimus, a smaller femme ran out, saying something to the Pitmaster. He blinked, looking horrified... and immediately tried to catch himself, saying, “Well folks, looks like tonight’s main event is over! Neither of our advertised fighters are able to continue, so the judges will decide who wins based on existing footage!”

As the crowd started to get even MORE restless, the Pitmaster immediately started ushering Optimus out through one of the main exits. “Slag’s sake, kid.” He grunted, shutting off the mic and shoving him into the clutches of two security mechs. “Looks like you’re wanted Downstairs. Boys, make sure our special guest is taken care of before he’s presented before the Boss.”

Only now is Optimus really starting to understand that this might end with him offline in a ditch somewhere ,as he was ushered away to the Medical Bay.


	2. Kaon Underbelly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's really done it now. Optimus has managed to make an impression on some powerful mechs. But is this the kind of attention he needs right now?

Well.

This was a fine mess he’d gotten himself into.

Despite many questions, the security bots said nothing to him. The most they did was tell him to go left or right, leading him through a labyrinth of metal corridors and past so many unmarked doors. Optimus was ‘escorted’ (or rather, half dragged and half marched) to a big silver set of double doors, which opened up to an extensive Medical Bay.

The immaculately clean room was filled with injured gladiators and medics tending to them. Though, it seemed that Gal’thor and Crusader were not among them. Stood to reason, since Optimus had left first. But… He hoped they were ok. He’d sparred and fought before but he’d never actually brutalized his opponents in such a manner. The mental image of both enormous mechs on the ground made him flinch, almost making him miss the security bots telling him to move along.

They pushed him along, past the many berths housing many previous fighters. The more alert ones looked up, whispering among themselves. Had they seen the match? Surely they had. There were monitors in here, it would make sense-

Another shove through another set of double doors at the end of the Bay, and Optimus found himself in a clean, but not as brightly lit office. The majority of the room was an exam room, full of the typical tool a medic might have. Racks of laser scalpels and many ominous looking nozzles and hoses... The back corner was a mess of data pads and a monitor, all piled onto an old and shabby looking desk. Despite being metal, it sagged under the weight of the workload, and the name ‘Solder’ was on the plaque on the desk’s front. From behind a pile of datapads, a copper colored mech lifted his head and glared at the intruders.

“Ah.” He nodded, pulling away from the pile and revealing he was lacking much of the external kibble most bots had. “This the brat Revroller told me about? Very well. By your leave, gentlemechs.” The Security bots nodded, turning on their heels and leaving in tandem. Now it was just the old mech and Optimus.

“Go on then, troublemaker. On the exam table.” The medic turned away, tapping away at a touch pad on the wall between the exam table and his desk. Optimus, hesitant but really starting to feel his injuries, didn’t argue as he laid back on the table. A scanner came down, doing a full body scan… Something familiar at least. He had had these plenty of times back at the Academy, as it was part of the mandatory physicals… There was so much he wanted to ask, to say, but right now, the good doctor was shining a light in his optics and examining his optical ridge…

“Hmmm.” The older mech hummed, pulling back. “Symptoms of energon deficiency, optics already fading to blue green… Not enough time to give him an emergency shot of Ultra Energon unless...” He left and came back, shoving something into his hands. A box? “Here. Sit up, lad, sit up. That’s right, just eat this.”

Optimus dared to look down, and saw that it was… a box of energon snacks. But he’d never actually seen this brand before. What was this, ‘Ultra-energon infused for all day energy!’?

“Go on. I’d normally just give you an infusion personally, but you’re wanted downstairs. If I keep you too long, I’ll have my helm on a spike.” He tutted and huffed, already getting a small repair tool and stepping on a stool so he could repair the other’s busted up helm. “Try not to shuffle too much. I’m just going to give you a quick patch job so you don’t look like hot slag when you’re down there. Believe me, you’re going to want to look presentable.

“What’s downstairs?” Optimus asked, popping one of the snacks in his mouth. Primus, he’d missed these. Good old classic rust flavoring. Couldn’t beat it. He could already feel himself feeling more energetic from just the one snack…

“Not just what, but who.” Solder replied, attending to the other’s wounds and popping dented metal back into place… “Can’t say much since I’ve been down there once. But that’s where we ‘hire’ most folks. And ‘fire’ others.” His tone was so relaxed, so nonchalant, as if this was just ‘office cooler’ talk.

The reply was enough to make Optimus shut up as he was cleaned up and repaired.

Eventually, he was seen as ‘presentable’ in Solder’s optics, and was signed off. “You can keep the snacks, but I’d finish those up before you’re put before the Pitboss. It’s just good manners.” The older mech placed a spindly hand on Optimus’ arm, patting the now clean metal… “The security team will be waiting outside the Medical Bay. Behave yourself, lad. You’re in for a ride.”

Optimus thanked him, and left through the doors more nervous than he’d come in… Was he going to get in trouble? Was he going to be ‘fired’ before he was even hired? Primus. All he’d wanted was a job.

He’d never asked for this.

\--- 

There was less pushing and shoving Optimus this time around.

Even the escorting security bots seemed nervous about going this direction. The further from the main halls they got, the fewer bots they saw. The dull thud of footsteps en masse from the coliseum above lessened until he couldn't hear it anymore… All they could hear were their own foot falls, echoing in the uncomfortable silence.

A few twists and turns later, and they were stood in front of an elevator. The security bots pressed a button, tapping in a security code and hitting the button for the very bottom floor. “This is as far as we go.” One said, pushing Optimus to the opening door. “Go. The Pitboss is waiting.”

Optimus was personally getting pretty sick and tired of all the pushing and shoving. But he turned away, heading into the lift as the security bots turned their backs to him. They didn’t leave though… Perhaps it was so he didn’t try and escape?

Whatever the case was, there was no turning back now.

–

It felt like he’d been going down the elevator forever.

At one point, a couple of bots go on the elevator, pressing a button and a almost completely ignoring him. It stood to reason, they were at least a mech and a half taller than him. Or rather, ‘two and a half Optimi tall’, as Elita had once described a Decepticon they’d seen in the holovids… The resurfaced memory of his friends was enough to make his spark clench… He tried to just ignore them, pressed against the wall until they left and he was alone again…

Finally… finally, the elevator stopped, and opened up. The room that greeted him was surprisingly… lavish. There was quiet music playing, the walls were lined with posters and screens showcasing the best and brightest gladiators of the past few stellar cycles, the nanopaint on the walls was subtly shifting between different shades of blue…

The bored looking receptionist at the desk, all fancy decals and matte paint, looked up from her data tablet and did a double take. “Oh. Oh! I didn’t think they’d be sending you so soon…!” She pressed an intercom button, saying, “Excuse me, Mister Tiretread, the latest arrival-”

“-Will have to wait outside for a bit longer~!” A higher pitched voice said, tone playful and dismissive. “I’m still on the line with someone right now, dear, just have him wait outside and I’ll be with him in a bit.” A click and the connection was terminated.

The dark blue femme exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nasal ridge. “...Well. You heard mister Tiretread. Just… have a seat and get comfortable. Um.” She averted her gaze, trying not to fidget. “...You did amazing up there. Even if you cost me like. 2500 shanix.”

Optimus, who had been so used to being cut off and being told to shush, was silent for a few kliks before he realized she was actually expecting an answer. “Oh! Uh… thanks. It was really spur of the moment. Guess my survival instincts really kick in there.” He settled in one of the seats and… oh.

That was cloth.

Genuine cloth with soft… filling? Optimus had seen this stuff from the traders out in the Iacon space port shops, mostly for high end bots who wanted something a little more ‘exotic’ in their decorations. Soft… That was a new sensation.

He wasn’t sure he’d liked it.

Still, he’d have to make himself comfortable, folding his arms close to his chassis as he did he best to settle in. It was hard not to get stuck in his own thoughts and started to watch a few bots on the screen silently duke it out. The battle was intense, but without any accompanying sound, it was unsettling, maybe even a little comical. The way the big orange one was boasting and puffing out his chest was so familiar to him, it made him smile. He recalled Sentinel trying to imitate this particular bot in the past...

He tilted his chin down, letting his optics dim. After all that… He was really very tired.

Maybe he could recharge for a little bit…?

\---

_“Sentinel come on. We’re supposed to be practicing from the book.”_

_“Oh come ON, Optimus. If we practice by the book, then you know what we are? Predictable. And that stuff’s not gonna help us when we’re staring a Decepticon in the faceplates.”_

_“ACTUALLY Sentinel, if we at least get the basics down-”_

_“Basics schmasics! You know all the best war stories have a bot all on his own, doing what they can to survive. What kind of story has a hero following the training to the letter?”_

_“I mean...”_

_“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now come and help me practice this cool move I planned out after we watched that Gladiator broadcast.”_

_“You don’t mean that really fragging dangerous move that involves you slamming down on the opponent with your shield, do you? We’ve been through this...”_

_“Oh come on, Optimus! If you’re just gonna stand there and talk at me, then hold still so I have a decent target to jump on!”_

_“You’re gonna get hurt...”_

_“Says you! Haaa-AUGH-!”_

_“...You alright? You took a pretty bad spill there...”_

_“Don’t. Say anything. How did you-?!”_

_“Actually, the defense section of our manual has a move that’s made to deal with heavier enemies at all angles-”_

_“Can you just… Stop… and...”_

_“I’ll go get the medic if you promise to never do that again.”_

_“...Fine...”_

\--- 

“Excuse me!”

Optimus startled, lifting his head and letting his optics flicker back to life. The secretary had stood up and was now gently shaking him awake. “O-oh sorry. I must have dozed off...” He stood, stretching and trying not to yawn in her face.

“Mister Tiretread will see you now.” She said, patting his shoulder. “...Good luck with that.” Her expression, a look of sympathy and exasperation, was almost telling enough about what was about to unfold.

-

The office itself was similar to the waiting room, except the nanopaint on the walls was the pink of watered down energon, providing an ambient glow. If Optimus hadn’t just rested, he might just fall asleep in this room. On the walls hung many photo frames, depicting many past gladiators’ photos, autographed and behind glass. And behind the copper colored desk sat the Pitboss himself

The violently pink mech was currently scribbling something onto a datapad that he then unceremoniously pushed into a delivery tube attached to the side of the desk. His golden yellow optics settled on the other that stood before his desk, and he smiled a sudden, strained smile.

“Oh good you’re finally here!” He said, leaning back in his high backed seat. “My dear sweet secretary told me that you’d fallen into recharge out there… I’m SO sorry, I was on a call with one of our old Gladiators, and he just WOULD NOT stop talking! But this isn’t about him, this is about YOU.” Tiretread suddenly leaned forward, elbows on the desk and fisted his taloned hands under his chin.

He motioned at a tray of high end energon. Optimus recognized it as the stuff they advertised outside the actual coliseum. “Please. Have a drink, I’m sure you’re parched!”

\---

“Um. Thank you.” Optimus took the cube, taking a small sip… High grade. Really strong stuff. He’d have to be careful while drinking this… “Pardon my speaking up, I just wanted to apologize for what happened in the ring tonight. I didn’t intend to interrupt the match, and I-”

“Nonsense!” He slammed his hands on the desk, grinning warmly. “My dear mech, you’re a sensation!” He pulled up a video clip of Optimus in the ring. “Out of the few very rare occasions that a spectator has fallen into the ring, you’re one of the first to not only survive, but actually excel and WIN! Aren’t you just a special little scraplet? You said your name was Optimus, right?”

“Y-yes. That’s correct.” Optimus couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Had he really gone all out? He barely recalled what had happened in the ring… “Look, I just came here for a job interview, that’s all. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea-”

“A job interview! My dear, you must be joking. There won’t be an interview, you don’t need one!” Tiretread cheerfully picked up a cube, taking a sip. “Cheers to you, Optimus. What position were you looking to take on? Management? Personal trainer?”

“Janitor, actually.”

The Pitboss choked midsip, coughing up the high grade. “Janitor?! You must be joking! We could never hire you as janitorial staff, what would the fans think? No, I insist that you get into Pit Training. I mean, anyone who can fight like that-"

“I only know how to fight like that because well...” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I was discharged from the Autobot Academy...”

Tiretread’s demeanor fell in a moment.

He furrowed his brow, taking another sip and setting his drink aside. “Is that so?” he asked. “Son… You’re not a Kaon mech are you? That could be problematic merchandising wise… What did you get discharged for, if I may ask?”

Optimus averted his gaze, unwilling to meet the other’s sudden, intense and frankly scrutinizing stare. “Well. Long story short, I ended up taking the blame for the death of someone I should have protected. It wasn’t my idea but I failed to stop the two from leaving and well… As part of their group, I should have-”

“So you got screwed out of a good military job because of glitched out misbegotten teammates, huh? Mmmmm...” Tiretread made a sympathetic sound, taking another sip as he settled in his chair again… “That’s why I work solo if I can, sport. Life’s too long to let other bots drag you down to their level, especially if you’re talented...” Another pause, and the Pitboss clapped his hands. The light coming from the walls shut down, and he turned on a small lamp on his desk.

“Normally, I’d be trying to sell you on being a gladiator or a gladiatorial coach. But in light of this new info, I think I have a much better offer for you.” He said, leaning forward again. He pushed a small datapad forward, smiling. “Now… this Gladiator I know, sorry EX gladiator I know, I owe him a favor. You’d be doing ME a big favor if you happened to say...” He switched the datapad on, revealing a bunch of numbers… “Work for him?”

Optimus took up the datapad, reading… Apparently the group was looking for those with formal training, in a position of leadership… Energon and housing provided, pay and travel expenses would be covered… but the place of work was way out in the middle of nowhere, probably out in mining country…

And he finally saw why this seemed like such a good deal.

“ ‘Progressive political group, looking for formal trainers to lead and train likeminded individuals in the ways of combat and self defense.’” He read aloud, trying very hard not to stare accusingly at the other mech. “Patriotic types need not apply.’ What exactly are you asking of me, mister Tiretread?”

“I’m just saying...” He sipped his drink, shifting and placing his legs on the desk. “If a bot like you can’t land a better job than a janitorial position in Kaon, then you’re very much out of options, Optimus.” He shuttered his optics, nodding. “ Your Iaconian origins makes you VERY hard to market in this town as a gladiator. And these bots… they pay well. They take good care of their own. And I’m sure you’d be able to gain more favor with the higher ups if you, say… revealed your former employee experience.”

“So you’re asking me to sell out what I know to-”

“You can do that orrrr languish out on the streets of Kaon.” He replied, smile widening. “Optimus. Let me be frank: you don’t have much of a choice. Either you get back to me about this, or I never hear from you again, and find some bot with looser morals to help me. And I like you, Optimus! Don’t get me wrong! I wouldn’t have offered unless I thought highly of you! So just think it over, and if I hear back from you, I’ll arrange for this to happen. If not… Well, it was nice to meet you.”

Optimus clutched the datapad, grip tight and hands shaking. He knew that Tiretread was right but…

“...I’ll… think about it.”

“That’s a good mech.” He slid him a business card, a small sheet of metal with the Pitboss’ contact info. “Ah and… the sooner you reply, the sooner we can get you off to bigger and better things, ok?”

“….Thank you.” He turned away, and within moments, he was out of the dark office.

Tiretread leaned over his desk, taking the abandoned drink as he punched in the contact code for ‘The Kaon Crusher’. “Nice kid. I think he’ll do well. Can’t wait to tell Lugnut the good news.”

\---

The walk back to the surface was mired by mental fog.

It was late now, by the time he reached the exit of the Coliseum. Even the cleaning drones were back in their little roosts, and all the concession booths were either folded up or locked down. The world continued on around it, transports and alt modes whizzing by, but Optimus felt truly and utterly alone since he’d gotten to Kaon. No job, but another job offer that made his fuel tank twist in disgust.

The ride home via the tubes wasn’t much better.

The crowds at the rundown old station made it apparent how few bots actually wore an Auto insignia, at least in Kaon. Perhaps he was looking at this all wrong. Maybe this was the liberating opportunity he was looking for? After all, he owed the Autobots nothing. They’d cast him out for something he couldn’t have… no. He could have prevented it. He could have saved her. But this wasn’t about Elita. This wasn’t about Sentinel or Ultra Magnus or the Autobot Academy.

This was about him.

\--

He unlocked the door to his home… when did he get there? Had he been on autopilot? Whatever the case, he’d gotten back safe, so things had gone ok. Usually he was so guarded, he had his… axe…out…

Where was his axe?

He felt around in his subspace, and found it, chipped and dented but still in one piece. Optimus caught himself sighing in relief, smoothing his hand down the handle and setting it on the table across from his recharge berth.

The halls outside were silent. The former resident who’s been down the hall had been ousted, probably. Whatever the case was, Optimus was left alone with his thoughts. No external stimuli… no second opinion… Just himself.

This really was entirely up to him.


	3. On Kaon's Mean Streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has Optimus reached the end of his rope? Is he able to finally settle into Kaon life and not be harassed by the locals? Absolutely not. The walls are closing in, and he has a choice to make. Let's hope this one actually works out for him.

It had been two solar sweeps and news of his completely unprecedented gladiatorial debut was ruining his life.

Optimus was back in his room, staring at his now blank wall. All the scraps he'd collected, all the jobs he could have applied for were now in the trash.

No one would hire him. Or if they would hire him, it was for all the wrong reasons. 

Ever since Tiretread had offered him a place to work, he’d been thinking about it. But it wasn’t like he could think on it very long. He’d continued his steadfast quest to get a simple job, something that would keep a roof over his head. 

Every single place he’d gone to had been a train wreck.

Either the interviewer wanted to call security on him (“I had money on Gal’thor you stupid slag! Get out of my office!”) or wanted him to join their company for marketing reasons (“Listen you’re a star now! I can get you started for a tidy paycheck if you start tomorrow on advertisements...”). Optimus didn’t know what was worse. After all, if he got a job as an advertisement, he’d just end up needing to put himself in more ridiculous situations to remain relevant. Even the most naive mecha knew that. And he wasn’t sure he could stomach that. 

What was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like he could really be picky. Maybe he should just go back the ones offering an actual job and say he changed his mind… The day he was supposed to submit his rent money to the landlord was fast approaching and he was barely able to afford this. What the pit was he supposed to say about this? That he was turning down lucrative jobs that required him to be an advertisement icon because he felt like it wasn’t right? Or-

A sudden knocking on his door shook him from his thoughts.

He stood from his bed, hesitantly peeking out the peephole…. 

Oh no it was the landlord.

Oh no oh no what day was it? Had he lost track of time and forgotten to pay? He looked back at the holo calendar he had up on the wall and- phew. He had a few more days.

Inhaling and steeling himself, he opened the door. 

\---

The mech before him was previously a sight for sore optics. But lately, all he’d done was fill Optimus with unease. 

The lanky yellow mech looked way too tall to be able to fit in these halls, and his optics were the yellow green of a mech who needed better energon in their system. In addition, his kibble suggested he’d once been some kind of crane…? But he was careful in his movements and his voice was always so soft spoken. Optimus had yet to hear him raise it above normal levels.

“Hello Optimus. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve not been seeing you around recently. Is everything alright?” The taller mech asked, placing a hand on the door frame. Optimus could feel the tension disperse almost immediately. Good old Ditches, he wasn’t mad at him. If he was mad, he’d not have come here himself…

“Yes... sorry, I’ve still been looking for a job. I still have the rent due I just haven’t had a chance to run it down to you-” Optimus began, but Ditches waved him off. 

“No need to be sorry, lad. I know how it is, I struggled when I showed up here too. Had to be how many stellar cycles now…?” He scratched his chin, musing over it. “Well, I actually just came here to check on you, make sure you’ve been adjusting to the place well enough. I’m sure even now, it’s a real culture shock.”

Optimus averted his gaze. It really had been, since he’d never felt safe outside of the apartment complex. And even then, he could never let his guard down completely. “Yes. Thank you. I can get you your shanix now, if you’d like, I don’t want to take up your time...”

“Nonsense. I’m worried about you!” Ditches replied, waving him off. “I just wanted to offer you a job, since I know you’ve been havin’ some trouble making ends meet. And uh, heh, if you don’t mind me saying, I feel it would be a breeze for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I did happen to catch you on the holo-channels… You were really impressive in the Arena a few solar cycles ago. I recognized some of those textbook Autobot Academy moves in there, with some improvisations… Really, I just didn’t bring it up since when you came home, you looked about ready to offline forever. Slag, you didn’t even look up when I called to you.”

Oh. He’d seen that. “Um… Yes. I apologize for being rude, it’s just. I was offered a job as a gladiator and I was thinking it over.”

“Oh lad!” The bracing hand reached out and landed on Optimus’ shoulder so fast, it made him flinch. “No need for that. That place is a death trap for good, honest young mechs like you. And those that do make it get modded until they’re unrecognizable. You’re better off getting a nice quiet job and letting the excitement die down. Like the one Im’ tryin’ to offer you, I mean.” He laughed softly. “How’d you like to be one of my enforcers?”

“Enforcers? You mean the bots who shake down your tenants for money?”

Ditches flinched but regained his composure after a moment. “Oh I wouldn’t say like that.” He replied, patting his shoulder. “Let’s face it, Optimus. Some bots just don’t have our work ethic. They can’t pay, they can’t stay. You’re at least trying to find a job. Bots like Leaky, they weren’t really tryin’ were they? Not like us Iaconian bots. We might be down, but we aren’t out. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

“I… Think I do.” Optimus replied, finally looking up at Ditches. Sure, he knew Ditches wasn’t a local, but had he really been from his home? And had bots from home always been like… this? It was ringing bells he didn’t want rung. “I didn’t know you were from Iacon.”

“It’s not something one advertises here. Pit, I’d be wearing my Autobrand loud and proud out in this dump if I wasn’t worried it’d draw the ire of some of the lowlifes here.” Ditches replied with a scowl. “Hence why I’m offering you the job. I trust you, Optimus, we understand each other. It’s you and me against Kaon, don’t you think?” He seemed like he was being earnest with Optimus, but…

“I appreciate the offer. If it’s all the same though, I think I’ll… sleep on it. I’ve been running around Kaon all day, so I’m exhausted. But it’ll be a wonderful job, I’m sure. And at least I won’t need to worry about rent, right…?” He smiled up at Ditches, tired and really just wanting to lay back down.

“Alright, lad. Get some rest. You know where to find me if you’d like to consider my offer.” The yellow mech smiled back, smile warm and genuine as he sloped off… 

Optimus shut and locked the door behind him, flopping back onto the recharge berth. How could he say such things? Primus, Ditches was nice, but he’d seen the way his enforcers had to rough up tenants. Did he want to be doing that for the rest of his life? Stuck here in Kaon with… with all these bots who either hated him or just wanted to use him for their own gains? Stuck here, in this pit forsaken hole in the wall, working for a bot who’s superiority complex could be compared to Sentinel’s?

Sentinel…

Optimus rolled over on his recharge slab, wondering how the other bot was doing...

\--- 

_“Primus what a boring lesson. I was so ready to start recharging at my seat. If I wanted to hear a sob story that badly, I’d go and watch one of those commercials about broken down Velocitron racers.”_

_“I don’t know, Sentinel. I mean, I thought it was really thought provoking. I mean, it’s painful to see all the awful conditions some bots live in. I’ve been to Polyhex, but I didn’t think the homeless population was so high… It’s only natural that the crime rate’s so high there, despite being a college city. Poor things.”_

_“You would think that, wouldn’t you?”_

_“What’s that supposed to mean?”_

_“Listen, Optimus, it’s time someone said it: you let your armor dent too easily. That sort of attitude won’t take you far in this profession. You can’t just feel bad because every Decepticon or wayward lawbreaker has a sad history! It doesn’t change the fact that a lot of them still commit crimes and still scare the living daylights out of honest, hard working citizens.”_

_“Yes. It does. Because that means we should be doing something about it.”_

_“Get real! We’re soldiers. We’re not those gold-plated, dim sparked ‘revolutionaries’ who try and throw riots to change the world. We fight for the Autobot cause, we take orders from Ultra Magnus, we do as we’re told.”_

_“Those revolutionaries want the world to be better for every bot. Not just those of us so lucky to be forged and sparked in Iacon.”_

_“Primus, do you hear yourself? You think it’s a coincidence that we’re here? We were selected as protoforms, Optimus! After all, who decides where protoforms go, if anywhere at all? The higher ups. They CHOSE US. We’re better than other bots on account of being chosen to be proper Autobots.”_

_“And who told you that?”_

_“You think I’ve got some rusted out engine block for a processor? I listen to things, Optimus. Just because lecture bores me to the Pit and back doesn’t mean I’m not listening to bots outside of the classroom. Maybe if you took a break from studying and hung out with Elita and I once in a while you’d know that.”_

_“You know I take my grades very seriously! And is it so bad to try and be kind to bots? Even if they need some help or guidance?”_

_“Pfth! And what are you planning on doing? Becoming a sparkling educator? I’d love to fraggin’ see that. Poor sweet little Optimus, a chassis of gold and a processor of lead, teaching an entire classroom of underprivileged Kaonian built sparklings! What a joke. You don’t belong in a place like that, Optimus. You belong here! With me! And Elita!”_

_“There’s no need for that. And what makes you think I couldn’t do it? I think I'd be a decent teacher. I could teach them a lot! It might be nice to help bots in places like Kaon, someplace with less access to education and all that.”_

_“Please! Your frame and your make just don’t allow for it. You know it, I know it. If anything else, you could MAYBE do that in Iacon. But Kaon? Those brutes would tear you apart as sparklings. Seriously, Optimus. You wouldn’t last a solar cycle in Kaon.”_

–--

The former Autobot woke to his alarm playing some poprock song over the radio.

Optimus groaned, feeling like he’d been run over by the transports out in the middle of Kaon… He'd been having so many dreams like that, and they were only getting worse. He hated thinking back to his time back in Iacon, especially since all his memories had to do with Sentinel. It had been so long. He recalled Sentinel’s high and mighty voice so easily. But not Elita’s… How strange. He felt like if nothing else, he should recall her more… Either way, why was this happening? He didn’t really want to recall all these memories, none of these annoying recollections with Sentinel of all bots. After all, wasn’t he the one who had suggested the whole ‘let’s go out to a Decepticon crash site and loot it for energon’ idea? Of course. It was always Sentinel with his stupid ideas… why hadn’t he put his foot down?

Regardless. 

Optimus sat up, rubbing at his faceplates and trying very hard not to succumb to the temptation of just laying back down. He couldn’t take it anymore. Getting a job here was going to be nothing short of impossible. And frankly, he didn’t want to stay here anymore. After all, what was the point? He was too well recognized to comfortably stay here. Waiting for the recognition to settle down would result in him getting tossed into the streets. And living in this… this supply closet was starting to get to him. Even his bunk back in the Academy wasn’t this cramped! It wasn’t that he didn’t want to just settle down, have a nice life, relax… But to do so here was not the best of ideas. 

And would it be so bad? Being back in a military unit? If that's what they wanted of him?

Optimus finally stood up, stretching and trying to wake himself up properly after that awful dream. Maybe Sentinel had been right. While he’d survived in Kaon, he had not really lasted. All he wanted was to go back to Iacon, to get some semblance of familiarity. But even the thought of trying to go home again repulsed him. Going back to Ultra Magnus, groveling for his job back… After all that he’d been through… Maybe he could do better.

He pulled the metal calling card from his subspace and immediately put the number through his com unit.

He thought it might be a little too early for that though, and was about to hang up and try calling again later, but Optimus was surprised to hear the secretary from a few days ago pick up. 

“Tiretread’s office. What’s your business?” She sounded so incredibly bored and tired, as if this was the first call she’d had in hours and had been ready to fall into recharge.

“Yes hello. This is Optimus, the mech from a few days ago-”

“Oh! I see. Hold on a moment while I transfer your call.”

Optimus could hear the sound of tapping, and suddenly-

“Optimus, darling~!” There he was. Tiretread’s voice, dripping with what Optimus could only imagine was delight. But why did he sound like he was trying to catch his breath…? “I knew you’d make the right choice and take me up on my offer. After all, we both know this town just is NOT your style!”

“Um. Yes. I mean it’s been tough enough to try and get a job after my… incident so… I felt that it would be smart to try and get away for a while.” Plus, Optimus knew how military units worked. He knew what sort of discipline was required in that line of work. If the Autobots didn’t want him, maybe this group would…? “So is the offer still on the table or…?”

“Oh the offer was ALWAYS on the table, you little scraplet of a mech, you.” Tiretread replied, laughing a little TOO enthusiastically. “Lucky for you, the transport out to the ah, established meeting place will leave tomorrow. So I’d get all your belongings ready and meet them outside the Coliseum tomorrow at this time." A pause and then, "Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry I’m so disorganized, ahaha! I’ll send you all the details to you directly, save my own breath and such, ha ha!”

“Are you alright? You seem tense...” He didn’t sound so languid and playful, unlike when he’d seen him previously. He was laughing. A lot. And his voice was so high and strained...

“Oh you know! Running a Gladiator ring is tough work! But let’s just say you saved me SO much trouble.” He replied with another laugh, then what sounded like him taking a deep swig of energon… “Don’t you worry about little old me. I’m going to be ok. Better than ok, in fact.” Another simper and another sip. “Alright, alright, I’m sure you have some preparing to do. I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and it shouldn’t NEED to be said, but I can assume you’re going to keep quiet? This IS on a need-to-know basis, after all. But I’m sure you knew that, right?” It was at that point the data that Optimus needed finally made it over to him. “Good luck, Optimus! You’re going to need it!”

And before Optimus could even reply, the line went dead.

–--  
It wasn’t like he had many things to do to prepare. 

He barely had anything of value to take with him. All he could do was take his rent to Ditches and leave the bundle in his drop box. 

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t have the spark to meet him face to face. Despite his attitude that rubbed Optimus the wrong way, he still didn’t want to see the other’s disapproval. Probably because Ditches had been so kind as to take him in. Besides, even if Autobot influence was at an all time low, Ditches might try and get in contact with Autobots in the area, blow their cover. Maybe try and do what a good, law-abiding bot would do... 

The time he was to go and meet the transport was in the wee hours of the morning, before any self respecting bot was supposed to be up and about. The only ones up at that time were the deskjobbers and the cleaning crews. So the only thing he could really do was make sure his affairs were in order, and to get some rest...

\---

After a day of meandering and a quick nap, it was time. 

He peered out of his room, making sure to keep quiet as he crept down the hall and out the double doors. Optimus took one last look at the broken down old building he’d called home for what felt like forever, its half painted walls already showing its age and wear despite the attempts at freshening up… He could hear one of the bots on the first floor blasting music, and another tenant having a loud argument over com… How strange that Optimus had never heard that while inside. The insides had always been so deathly quiet… 

Whatever the case was, it wasn’t his issue anymore. 

He turned away, optics downcast as he strode off to the station.  
\---  
The ride over was quiet. 

Not like most bots would be out right now. A few sleepy looking commuters were on the transports, but they paid Optimus no mind. One Passenger Pod ride was all it took for him to reach the street he needed.

Like the last time, the place was still very much deserted, save for a small cluster of bots by the street. 

There couldn’t be more than two dozen, of varying sizes and alt modes. While the most were rusty and looked exhausted, two near the back immediately stood out. 

One of the bots in the back was one Optimus recognized from the posters outside of Tiretread’s office… Hulking frame, dark purple and white armor… Kibble that looked like it belonged to a tank alt mode, despite the fact that that was certainly not street legal… What was their name? It had been on the poster... Crasher? Something like that. Whoever they were, they looked antsy, shifting from ped to ped and rolling their shoulders back. They appeared to have a single smaller piece of luggage at their side…

Wait, no. That luggage was standing up.

What Optimus had mistaken for luggage at a distance appeared to be the only quadruped in the group. The dark blue and silver feline shaped bot sat on their haunches and talking to the much larger bot… It seemed that they were at least on friendly terms…?

Whatever the case, Optimus had to approach.

“Excuse me.” He waved them down as he approached, trying to keep his voice down. “Is this where the transport is going to stop?”

“No, this is the meetup point for the Mercury Springs day trip.” The much larger bot replied, getting a good laugh from both them and their companion before continuing in the most condescending tone. “What’s the matter, little guy? You lost?” A pause, and they blinked. “...Wait a klik. Aren’t you that loser who fell in the arena a while ago? Yeah, wait...” They circled Optimus once, before gasping and slapping him on the back. “You are! Ohhhh Primus, thank you for that! We all had a damn good laugh at Gal’thor’s expense for that little screw up. Can you BELIEVE he and that stupid stuck up slag from Iacon got trounced by some half-sized little sparkling like you? What a joke!”

That slap had nearly sent Optimus tumbling. He flailed and staggered, catching himself on his hands and knees. “Urk! Uh, you’re-” He coughed. “You’re welcome? I think I know you from the posters… You’re Crasher, right?”

“And the little glitch knows who I am!” Crasher threw up her hands in delight, and looked to their companion. “Howls you hear that? This little idiot knows who I am!”

The quadruped blinked and kept their yellow optics narrowed. “Yes, Crasher. I hear you. So will everyone in Kaon if you don’t settle down.” They had such a deep voice, almost comically unfitting for a bot of their stature. “Forgive her. She’s just anxious to get this trip underway. I am too, to be honest.” They looked away, growling at the now staring crowd of bots that had turned to look at them once Crasher had started yelling. It was enough to get them all to startle and go back to waiting… There would be whispers now, though. Not like Crasher or her quadruped friend noticed or cared. 

“It’s...” Another cough from the floored bot. “It’s no problem. I’m sure my uh, antics have made it into your sphere of friends, mister…?”

“Miss.” The quadruped replied, looking at her paws. “Miss Howlback. And you need not worry. I know exactly who you are, Optimus.”

“Oh! Sorry. But how did you-”

“I was there.” She looked back at the looming walls of the Coliseum. “I work here… Worked, I mean. I was laid off. I used to do security in the stands. Just happened to be doing crowd control, and well...” Howlback sat down again, looking off towards the road. “You did well back. I’m surprised you didn’t decide to become a gladiator...” At that, Howlback fell silent, watching the crowd intently.

Well. Optimus had never seen a bot with such an alt mode. But he supposed that was the least of his concerns, for Crasher was now hauling him up by the shoulders and asking, “So? So? What was it like? Fighting against those two deadbeats at once I mean?” Had she never fought two bots at once? She seemed so eager to hear about it, that she barely noticed that the transport was pulling up… 

“Uh… I… guess I’ll tell you on the ride over.” Optimus replied, dusting himself off as a lanky mech stepped out of the vehicle with a list. The gathered bots were lining up, listing their names off as they approached the entrance… Optimus himself was behind Howlback, and as he gave his name, the bot gave him a scrutinizing look. 

“...I had money on Gal’thor.” The stranger grunted, frowning and jerking his thumb inward. “Get inside, you-” He let out a strangled gurgle as a large servo shot out and grabbed him around the waist. 

Optimus turned to see that Crasher had grabbed the bot and seemed to be threatening to snap him in two. Her faceplate made it hard to tell what she felt, but her optics said it all. Though… All they said were that she was annoyed at this bot and his desire to hold something against Optimus. 

“You got something to say to this bot, who took down two gladiators in one match?” She snapped, as she gave the now struggling mech a nice hard shake. He rattled around, shaking his head and trying to stammer out an apology. “That’s what I thought.” Crasher let go, shoving Optimus onto the transport without bothering to give her name.

Howlback was already sat in the front, shaking her helm and rubbing at her muzzle with a paw in exasperation. “...you really know how to make a lasting impression on bots, Crasher.” She mumbled, curling up in her seat and looking at the now battered and frazzled bot taking names outside. Her grip really had left some bad dents on his chassis... “Honestly, do you think we’re going on a day trip? You’re going to need to control that temper of yours...”

Crasher, meanwhile, settled in the seat behind Howlback, offering the seat next to her to Optimus. “What can I say? He was gonna be a jerk, I was gonna be a jerk back. If they wanna fight about it, I'll be more than happy to.” The gladiator replied, chortling. “So anyway, tiny, you were saying?”

“Uh, right.” Optimus actually felt… relief? That had been the first time anyone had stood up for him like that. Especially since he’d just met this femme... “Well I mean… I was there to just try and apply for a job as a janitorial bot-” he began as the last of the passengers loaded on. The mech that had been manhandled by Crasher pushed past, settling in the opposite row as they started off.

“What? That’s stupid. Why the slag would you do that?” She cut in, tilting her head and gently shoving him. Unfortunately, her ‘gentle shove’ was enough to make Optimus almost fall out of his seat. The ride would be bumpy enough as it was, and Optimus didn’t want to disturb anyone… 

“Oof!” He righted himself, adding, “Well I’d just moved in from Iacon, after getting kicked from the Academy-”

“No way.” Crasher shook her head, optics narrowing in mirth and squinting at him. “Well… maybe yes way. You don’t look like a Kaonite. You’re too… small. And no self respecting Kaonite would use primary colors as the main focus of their paintjob...Ah, but you keep talking. I wanna hear this.”

She… certainly was opinionated. But Optimus couldn’t hold it against her. At least she wasn’t recoiling in disgust when she heard he was from Iacon, not unlike most from this city... It was at that point the transport finally filled up, and they started the long drive out of the city.  
\---  
“So let me get this straight. You covered for some bigheaded fool in the autobot Academy and you get the ax for it. And said bigheaded fool is now still back there, cozying up with the Magnus and just overall having a nicer life than you are right now? All while this is happening, your pal is now MIA and presumed offline and now you’re here, with me and the felinanoid in the front seat. Am I understanding this correctly?”

“I mean… Sentinel isn’t really ‘cozying up’ with anyone.” Optimus replied, leaning back in his seat. “He’s… well, he IS a kissaft, but I don’t know if he has the ability to really get that close to anyone after what happened to Elita. I hope he’s doing ok. We were his only real friends...” He’d just spent a good portion of the trip explaining to Crasher what he’d been through, how he’d gotten stuck in Kaon, and why he’d taken up this offer. 

“Well, Tiretread’s a real skeevy bot, but he wouldn’t recommend this to you if he wasn’t either desperate or thought you were capable of this.” The femme replied, folding her arms and nodding. She leaned back, much to the chagrin of the bots behind them. They were quick to protest, but that just made her lean back harder... “Pipe down back there! You sorry sons of slags don’t want me to come back there, do ya? Anyway, Optimus, I wouldn’t worry about that stupid glitchhead. He’ll get his, and you’ll get yours. I’m gonna get some recharge, and you should too. It’s a long way, and we won’t get to the place we’re goin’ for some time...”

“I… I guess. Hey, Crasher?” Optimus shifted in his seat, hopefully not causing as much as a fuss as Crasher had…

“Yeah?”

“...Thank you. For being so nice. It's been rough ever since I was discharged from the Academy and... I hope we get to work together in the future.”

“Awwww! You’re gonna make me cry, you dunce.” She nudged him again, chuckling and letting her engine rev. “But I agree. You’re a real shortstack, but you’re also a good mech. Wake me up when we get there, ok Optimus?”

"Sure." Optimus took a moment to just watch her settle in… and copied her sleeping posture. Arms crossed, head laid back, feet up on the seat in front of him. Maybe it was forward to think of her as a friend, but it settled his spark, made him feel like there was hope for him yet.

Maybe… things would be ok from here on out.


	4. Hard Knock Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same energon, different day. Will Optimus settle into his new home after all the fanfare that went into his group's arrival?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my friend Preacher for helping me get Blitzwing's character properly. He's the one I think I really understood the least. I wanted to do his accent in writing but I felt I'd just butcher it so uh rip I guess.

The trip had been… something.

The last thing Optimus expected was a paw pressing on his face, waking him from what he’d thought was a pretty good recharge. “Hey. Hey wake up.” That was Howlback’s deep voice, her paw pushing at his face and trying to bat him awake. “You have a ration in your lap. It’s gonna spill.” He let his optics come online to see she was right. An energon cube was balanced in his lap, rattling when the transport hit some rougher terrain… He was quick to pick it up, lest it spill all over him. The energon sticks he’d been rationing out were long since gone, and he’d have to rely on the energon of his new employers. Howlback had moved on to rousing Crasher, gently batting at her, and just swat her paws away for her trouble.

He drank deeply, sighing and just trying to adjust his optics. It was brighter now, or at least as bright as things could get on the southern half of Cybertron. They had to be further away from the city, as the landscape outside was so barren and empty, save for the small roadside towns in the middle of nowhere. So barren but with bots still strolling by outside. Optimus couldn’t help but peer past Crasher’s grumbling frame, entranced by just how flat the planet was. Granted, there was so many jagged outcrops and sometimes even cliffs and canyons, but the vast amount of NOTHING outside the cities was enough to make the former Autobot feel very small indeed. 

“How long have we been traveling?” Optimus asked, as Crasher finally woke up long enough to drink her ration and go back to sleep. Howlback huffed, shaking her head at Crasher and settling back down. “Ah… too long, I feel. It’s hard not to want to recharge in a comfortable bus seat when you’ve been sleeping on park benches for a good few solar cycles. Alas, someone has to keep an optic open for you two.” She turned her gaze back to the window. “We should be arriving soon though. See if you can’t nudge Crasher awake. I’ve already tried and she grumbled a death threat at me just now.”

“If you say so… Crasher. Crasher wake up-” Optimus gently shook her shoulder, and jumped as one large servo landed in his lap… and pushed him down into the seat so she could sit up, stretch and yawn. That… was going to leave some bad dents in his plating. Her grip was so strong, he actually had feared for his life for a nanoklik there. “...Good morning to you too. We’ll be arriving shortly, so says Howlback. You have to get up.”

“Mmmmmm… I was havin’ such a nice dream too.” She grumbled in response, stretching her joints and yawning. “Where are we?”

“Rust Fields east of Kaon, if I’ve been keeping track correctly. Nothing out here but mines and energon farms.” Howlback replied, looking back out the windows. They were coming up on one of those mines now, so old and decrepit and hidden in the shadow of what looked like a mountain. “I wonder if they’re still mining out iron and titanium here… I had a friend who used to go into the little tunnels and scope them out.” 

“Awwwww… they’re not gonna make us mine shit out, are they?” Crasher complained, finally sitting her seat up straight. “A femme like me’s not about that dirty work.” She glared at Howlback who snorted. “What? Just because I’m a gladiator doesn’t mean I LIKE doin’ work that makes me messy.”

* * *

The mines were a lot bigger up close.

The entrances, built to accommodate the largest of workers, practically swallowed up Optimus and their little group as they were led inside. Armed guards of every build and alt mode were lingering by the walls, optics seeming to scan through the crowd of newcomers. A few grounder models, probably racers, nudged each other, whispering things as they locked optics with Optimus. The cruel chuckles made him wince as he averted his gaze. Crasher patted his back encouragingly, pulling him more into the center of the group. 

The deeper in they went, the more tunnels they encountered. Bots were scurrying to and from each opening, each busy with their own tasks. As they reached the center of the mountain, the hall widened and revealed a large complex full of bots of every shape and size. A large screen was up on the wall, broadcasting alerts, announcements, and schedule updates in regards to training. A small line up of bots, about a dozen in total, were doing transform ups and rattling off responses to their Drill Sargent's barked questions. Bots were up above, walking on ledges and catwalks on each story of the complex, as a flier hopped off one to hover down to the ground floor and vanish into yet another tunnel system… 

“Newcomers, if you still have your Autobrands, follow the medic to your right!” The lanky mech leading them, still bearing dents from Crasher’s assault, yelled at the head of the crowd. “Everyone else, follow me to get sorted into groups!”

Optimus was actually pretty surprised that so many bots had to leave to get autobrands removed. So many of those bots had been from Kaon, he figured that most wouldn’t have HAD Autobrands that far from the capital… Regardless, he’d stick close to Crasher for now. Even if they couldn’t stay together for much longer, any comfort and protection he could get was welcomed. Having someone looking out for him was a welcomed change of pace… 

For now, the group was heading to the left, as their current leader gave them a rundown of what would be happening next. 

“Alright you sorry excuse for rust shavings. Once you’re through that door, you’re on your own.” He grunted, motioning at the double doors before him. A smaller mech came through it, handing out data pads with many boxes that needed to be filled in. “You’ll be filling this scrap out, getting to the different stations and getting approval from each one. Or not. It’ll be enough to help us decide where you sorry sons of slag belong in our esteemed organization. Think you all can manage that?”

The mech sneered as the gathered bots mumbled a reply. Slamming a hand on the wall and causing a loud bang, he repeated, “D o you think you all can manage that?!”

The group startled, replying with a scattered, “Yes sir!”

“Bahhh… Worthless lot. I’m sure the Whips will get you all to be marginally less embarrassing.” He shook his head, heading through the door himself. “Good luck! You all are gonna need it.”

* * *

This was an all too familiar process to Optimus.

Filling out the forms, having a neighboring bot ask what they mean by ‘Protoform ID, if any’ or how one would know where their spark was from (“That’s just a formality, if it’s not labeled as ‘essential info’, you don’t need to know it.”), it was just like when he’d first signed up for Autobot Boot Camp. A refreshing change of pace, to be in control of his situation, for once. 

He glanced over at Howlback, who seemed to be trying to help Crasher with her own form. “You two holding up ok? Need any help?” He asked, sidestepping over to them. Crasher waved him away. “Nah, nah it’s fine Optimus. Howlback has my back. We’ll be fine.”

“Alright. I’m gonna go ahead. I guess I’ll see you guys when you’re done?” He smiled, heading through the door behind a couple larger, bulkier mechs.  
Ah, paperwork. How tedious. 

Going from station to station was pretty familiar as well, as it was like this for incoming recruits as well. Granted, the staff was a lot more curt than what he’d experienced. The most they’d do was ask him if he forgot to fill anything out. If not, he’d be stamped and waved through. If so, he’d get a nice venomous glare and be told to fill the thing out, if he had the info they needed. 

Thankfully, this happened only once. Once was enough.

The last bot took his datapad, and he was pushed through to the next room with little fuss. Still, Optimus steeled himself. He knew his transition was far from over. 

The next room was a waiting room, bots being called quite rapidly into the next by an exhausted looking multi-armed femme… The window looking into the next room revealed that it was a medical ward, with multiple curtains were set up to provide some semblance of privacy for those getting looked over by the medics. 

Unlike Solder, these medics were quick on the scan, short tempered and more than happy to swat at the other’s servos if he kept trying to move away from them during inspections. Optimus learned this the hard way when he endured a swift kick to the back of the leg for trying to leave before he was deemed ‘clear’. 

Luckily, he was perfectly healthy, aside from some minor rusting of his digits and leg joints. Any concerns were waved off, with the medic assuring him that “we’ve seen so much worse’” 

“Don’t linger, by the way.” The tense medic added, handing the other a data slug with a number painted on it and waving in another patient. “Just head out that hall, and follow the signs. You’ll need to be oriented and then you’ll be sorted according to alt mode and previous experience. DO NOT lose that data slug.” Optimus would have asked him more, but he was already getting ready to inspect the undercarriage of a much larger mecha, tank treads and heavy armor making it hard for him to really get in under there…

* * *

He had to follow the trickle of bots wandering down the hall, following the plastered up signs to the Auditorium. Thankfully, the signs were big enough to be noticed… or so he thought. A few other bots, clearly confused and lost recruits, were actually starting to follow him and ask if he was going to the Auditorium. He couldn’t help but notice a LOT of these bots were much like the ones he’d seen in Kaon and even Iacon’s back alleys. All of them beat up older bots, or young bots who had followed the wrong path… Only one bot here even resembled something akin to a higher caste mech, and he was keeping his distance from the rest of the rabble. Hard to do when his wings kept clipping the wider mechs, but he was trying his best. 

Eventually the stream of bots got heavier, and Optimus found himself swept up into a larger room. Every door had at least two guards, and there was a rickety looking stage that had clearly seen better days. 

He was jostled forward, very much used to being pushed around now, as he was squeezed in between a sleek racer mech and a bulky, rusty looking truck. He set the data slug in his subspace, not trusting his hands to keep it close. He couldn’t help but watch the doors, looking for any trace of Crasher and Howlback, but there was no sign of them. Had they been sat in the back? It made sense…

A loud bang had come from onstage, an enormous flier having slammed his ped down as he climbed up. The purple and green mech was followed by a much smaller but no less intimidating tan flier, tank treads and wings making for a strange but telling combo. It was enough to get the crowd to murmur, settling down after another loud foot stomp.

* * *

The ten mech was the first to speak. Optimus couldn’t help but notice the rather unique accent the bot had. Strange.

“Ahem. Welcome to your first day of training, recruits.” He spoke calmly, red optics scanning the sea of faces. “My name is Blitzwing and this is my fellow Commander Lugnut. We’ve been sent to greet you on behalf of Lord Megatron.”

“The GREAT Lord Megatron could not be here physically, as he is far too busy planning out our next move against the Autobot scourge!” Lugnut added, raising cheers from a surprising amount of recruits. 

“Yes. Well.” Blitzwing kept his optics forward, still speaking as he started to pace the stage. “You have all been chosen for one reason or another. Your talents. Your influence. Your… debts, in some cases. But one thing has brought us all together: the rejection laid out upon you all by the Autobots.” The screen behind them flickered, and showed the Autobrand briefly. “They have, one way or another, abandoned you. You could not be the cogs they wanted for their so-called ‘glorious machine’.” A pause. “They were wrong. You, who were cast out for your defects and your faults, are accepted here. We will take you in. Make you stronger. And under Megatron’s leadership,” the blue face was suddenly and almost shockingly swapped out for a red one. “We intend to overthrow the Autobots and make a new home for ourselves! So sit up straight, ingrates!”

The switch had been startling, yes, but the speech up until that point hadn’t exactly been impassioned. But Optimus could hear bots around him grumbling, nodding and overall extracting the sentiment from Blitzwing’s words. It seemed the dissatisfied population was a lot bigger than he’d thought.

“So! Allow yourself to be the so-called ‘defective’ parts you are! Cybertron is broken as it is! Clearly, this 'Autobot way of life' is a load of molten slag! It is YOU-” he pointed out into the crowd. “You, the cast out and shunned who will be there to change it! You, who were forced to adapt to their rules, will stand up and shout 'No more!' No more of their oppression! Stand tall, as we Decepticons tower over their tyranny! We will not be denied!”

Already, the crowd was starting to froth and agree, yelling their agreement and generally working themselves into a mob. That is, until the light suddenly dimmed and the screen cut to static.

“What the SLAG IS-” Blitzwing demanded, but he immediately shut himself up upon hearing the smooth voice coming from the speakers. A voice that Optimus had only heard in his nightmares. A voice that made him sit up straighter as the energon flowing through his frame turned to ice.

“There is no need to fret, Blitzwing. I merely wished to inspect the new recruits.”

“L-Lord Megatron! This is incredibly unexpected, had we KNOWN-!” Lugnut began, but was cut off as a silhouette of a frankly enormous mech towered over him. He was backlit as he sat on his throne, so all that one could see of him aside from his shape were his piercing red optics. 

“Silence, Lugnut. This is exactly why I did not announce myself sooner. The recruits will need to be ready for just about anything.” He explained, as a drone flew overhead. “I am here to see the makeup of the largest batch of recruits we’ve had in a long time, and to see if anyone… stands out.” The lights brightened a bit as the crowd began watching the drone. It hovered low, looking and scanning the eager and frankly rowdy crowd as they jostled to get Megatron’s attention. 

“I can see that we have many… EAGER bots today.” The Decepticon leader said, voice seeming passive and betraying little. “An interesting assortment of ragtag specimens we’ve gathered. But will they be enough to assist in my campaign to change Cybertron for the better?”

Those words were met with a roar of approval, causing Optimus to cover his audials. 

“Of course they will, Lord Megatron! I will personally see to their training-” Lugnut began, only to be cut off.

“You will do no such thing. You are needed back here. The drill sergeants will be the ones to make sure they’re taken care of.” He replied, optics narrowing. “Unless you have such little faith in your fellow Decepticons?”

“N-no! Of course not, my Liege!” He replied, bowing out and backing out of the way of the screen. 

“Very well. Regardless. I am counting on each and every one of you to pull your weight, and serve the cause loyally. And do not disappoint me.” The screen cut out, and the lights came back on fully. 

There was a lull in activity before Blitzwing’s voice rang out again. In the chaos, his face had changed yet again, this one all black with a red mouth and optics. Arguably the creepiest of the lot.

“Well!” He laughed. “Now that Megatron is gone, I can start getting you more excited to be a part of our group! When I say ‘We are’, you say ‘Decepticons!’ Ready? We are!”

There was a yell of “Decepticons!” from the crowd.

“Pffth! That was maybe half of you! Try again! We are!”

“Decepticons!”

“Ahaha! We are, but are you? You’re just recruits!”

That was more than enough to get Lugnut involved. “Cease your idiocy, Blitzwing!” He snapped, trying to drag him offstage. Blitzwing was really putting up a fight, and all this was doing was riling up the recruits… Eventually Blitzwing was dragged away, and the presentation was concluded after some confusion.

* * *

Well.

That had been. A Welcome.

Slowly, the recruits all were herded out of the auditorium. Some were still grumbling about the nonsense they’d had to sit through. Others seemed more nervous, whispering about actually getting to SEE Megatron at all… Optimus was just trying to keep from getting trampled. There was STILL no sign of Crasher and Howlback. Just a wall of larger bots, shuffling off to be sorted into bunks. He didn’t recall it being this way as an Autobot, though perhaps that was because most of his class had consisted of freshly minted bots, no older than a few stellar cycles, fresh out of basic learning. All of them had been pretty small, by these standards…

One by one, they all were sorted through gates, pointed off to other gates… It was so horribly boring, but Optimus knew that it would be better not to cause waves. The gates would denote where to go, who to talk to, and ultimately where you’d be sleeping it seemed. Optimus took note that each bunk had a number and code, and usually that denoted what kind of body type they’d accommodate for... Little by little, he was pushed forward, until he reached a spindly older mech, standing in front of the battered old gate between him and a breather. Optimus could finally see that the place was a huge fan shaped clearing leading out into the training grounds and bunk areas.

“Your data slug, if you please.” He said, voice rough and slow. Optimus reached into his subspace and handed it off, and the older mech plugged it into the gate…

It blared on the gate’s screen that Optimus was to step through and exit back through a left hallway back into the caverns.

“Ohhhh?” The mech slowly turned his head to Optimus. “I see… How interesting...” He chuckled hoarsely as he handed the data slug back to Optimus. “Very well then… Go back behind me... Good luck then, young mech...” He waved Optimus through, and proceeded to take another dataslug. 

Optimus had… Not seen any other bot be sorted in that way. Or if he had, he’d missed it. But there was nothing he could do but follow the instructions.

* * *

The sudden switch between ‘hustle and bustle’ to ‘dead silence’ was familiar but unsettling.

Optimus’ footsteps echoed as he entered the hallway, the doors shutting behind him. How many times was he going to have to walk these sorts of hallways by himself? Well… He straightened up, and walked on.

It wouldn’t take long for the hallway to converge with others, and while he was still pretty much alone, he could at least hear more things happening within the base through the doors he was passing. Muffled foot falls, mumbled conversations… But Optimus became acutely aware that someone had come in from another hallway and was walking behind him. He dared to look and… Oh. 

“Outta the way, WHELP.” Optimus is shoved aside by someone twice his size. The bot looks like he’s seen better days, armor mismatched and patchwork in every sense of the words. The bot’s faceplactes were white and dented in places, but they still had painted them to look skull like. The majority of the parts were a burnt orange, rusty in some places, with metal patches all over… though as he passed by, Optimus noticed a particularly gnarled part of him. The back of his helm looked like part of it had been ripped off, and had been patched up only today. The weld marks looked pretty recent. 

Well. Optimus still had to follow the hallway. So shadowing the frankly terrifying mech as the only option.

It was a quiet walk. And yet the stranger was checking every so often, looking back to see Optimus still walking behind him. He picked up the pace, checking back again and again until- “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” He snapped, voice raspy as he stopped in his tracks. “Stop following me!”

Optimus, who just exhaled, replied, “I’m going the same way as you. We don’t have to talk.” He wished he knew how Crasher and Howlback were doing. Having bots looking out for him had been a luxury he never knew he’d missed until now.

“Kh!” The ragtag orange bot let out an annoyed sound and stomped off, walking ahead to the end of the hall and disappearing through the only door they’d seen since they walked in.

Optimus really didn’t want to go in there.

But he didn’t have much of a choice.

* * *

The room itself wasn’t too bad. Nicely furnished, with a tray of refreshments by the door at the far end. It was just Optimus and the stranger for now, and he did his best to get his snacks and stay far away from the other. Time went on and the room started to fill up. One by one, bots would walk in, sitting and waiting. There had to be a dozen of them here, all with different alt modes and colors of nanopaint. Though… all of them were all at least taller than Optimus, making him feel more than a little self conscious. 

There was no sign of Crasher of Howlback as the last recruit, a ground model with a garish green and pink paint job, came in. There were twenty bots in all here, and once they’d all been accounted for, a voice spoke up over the com system. 

“Welcome. Please proceed through the door at the far end of the room for information on your status, as well as Q&A in regards to your new positions.” The door nearest the snack tray opened, and they all filed into another room. 

Oh. That large purple and green flier had been waiting for them.

He waited until everyone was seated before speaking. “So. You may all be wondering why you specific bots have been singled out. Set apart from your fellow Decepticons. It is not because you are special. Not because of your specific individual standing.” He started to pace like his companion had on the stage before. “No. It is simply because you are Useful. The bots gathered here have the required leadership aptitude to perhaps be allowed to lead a squad of their own one day. And one day, perhaps your squad will have the privilege of meeting Megatron face to face, fulfilling your otherwise empty little lives.” He stopped and scanned over the bots with all five optics. 

“Most importantly. All of you. Every last one of you. Have been selected or recommended by me, Lugnut. You are chosen leaders of tomorrow! You will be the ones to lead your fellow Decepticons into combat against the Autobot scum! And of course...” He leaned in close to one of the bots in the front. “If ANY of you. ANY OF YOU. Embarrass yourselves in the optics of the great and glorious Decepticon army, you have also embarrassed me. And I will personally handle you if that happens.”

There was dead silence as the straightened himself up again.

“You are not here to make friends. You are here to prove that you are worthy of serving under Megatron’s banner. If you feel you cannot handle this sort of responsibility, then by all means.” He motioned at the door in the back. “Leave the way you came. You will save yourself the trouble and shame of trying and failing to be someone you are not.”

No one moved. No one said anything.

“Very well.” He turned away. “You all will be divided into two bunks. Your training will consist of a variety of tactical and physical tasks. Privileges will be granted on the basis of overall team performance. Until training is completed, you will be working almost exclusively with your fellow generals to be unless told otherwise. You will be expected to show up to all training exercises barring injury and or acceptable excuses.” The seats they had all sat in suddenly were lit up by the tiles under them. 10 white seats. 10 black seats. There was no rhyme or reason to the arrangement. 

Optimus looked around at the various bots that he was not stuck with. Among his fellow white tiled companions were the terrifying looking bot he’d bumped into earlier. Wonderful. 

Lugnut continued. “Commander Blitzwing also has his own set of selected recruits. There may be times that you will combine forces with his own White and Black Bunks. There will also be times where you will have to fight against them. Be ready for anything.” He motioned to the door exiting out to their left, which seemed to exit into a mess hall. “You all will be given schedules at your bunks, as well as a map of the grounds. But for now. You should refuel. It’s only going to get harder from here.”


	5. Familiar Settings, Unfamiliar Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously why can't Transformers just settle on what a 'cycle' means. It's such a goddamn headache realizing you've used it wrong when you're 5 chapters into your story. 
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will be a mini-one, so don't expect a lot.

Once again Optimus found himself mashed between two bots of differing sizes.

They were all sat at long tables, and thankfully there were benches so that he could just hop on and off a seat without moving too much. Which was great because he was going to need all the wiggle room he could get. He was smushed between a huge tank mech and a bulky cargo hauler, and there was absolutely no room to try and move side to side. They’d been seated with the groups they’d been in, meaning Lugnut’s and Blitzwing’s groups were not allowed to mingle.

All he could do was grab an energon cube as they were slid down the table, letting out muffled thanks a his neighbors were grabbing fistfuls of the stuff. Well, larger bots needed more fuel…

“And what’s THAT supposed to mean?!”

Optimus craned his neck, and saw a familiar face. That rusty, burnt orange bot was staring down a flier Optimus hadn’t seen. Had they been seated in the back? Wait… he’d seen that one in the halls before orientation. The flier was bristling, maroon armor pristine compared to his neighbors. Though despite his attempts to puff out, the grounder was still at least two heads taller than the flier...

“I was just tellin’ you to mind your fraggin’ wings, skyrat.” The orange mech snarled, clawed servos shooting out and grabbing the base of the other’s wings, ignoring his yelp of pain. “Else I’ll be confiscating them from you. A set like these could sell GOOD on offworld markets...” 

“Hey hey knock it off!” A familiar face hopped the table, getting between them. That weird pink and green mech from before was prying the claws off the flier and pushing them apart. “C’mon, guys it’s the first solar cycle here. Redgear, c’mon, you know you’re sitting with a bunch of grounders. And you, I am SO SORRY about my friend, he’s a lil y’know, awkward. Still new to all this ‘socializing with non-fliers thing’.” The garish pink and green mech elbowed the flier named Redgear in the side without taking his optics off the bot antagonizing them. “Say you’re sorry, stupid…!” He uttered through gritted dentae. 

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you with my wings.” Redgear mumbled. “You didn’t have to mess up my paint job though!”

“Tch. Spoiled little...” The orange bot snatched up the flier’s energon. “You don’t wanna make an enemy of Bludgeon. Remember that name.” 

“We will!” A pink and green hand shot out at that response, and Bludgeon would blink as the fast talking little mech kept at it, his free hand shaken. “I’m Rally, this is Redgear, it’s nice to meet you!” 

Bludgeon would yank his servo away, growling and stomping away. Rally would take his seat, getting a couple of cubes from the middle of the table and patting the flier’s back as they talked quietly among themselves. 

Optimus just sighed. That really… struck a chord with him. Reminded him greatly of Sentinel and… Well. It was fine. It seemed that power dynamics tended to fall out similarly everywhere. The Academy, here… There were always bots who were bigger and scarier than others. Now that he was sat here, drinking up his energon rations, he couldn’t help but peer up and down the table, looking at his fellow Generals to Be. He had to say, when he thought of a ‘Decepticon General’, he thought of a HUGE bot, towering over him and making him feel small and insignificant. Most of the bots here (save for the two squeezing him into scrap), were smaller. His sized, even. They were all either just trying not to lock optics with another as they drank, or were actively speaking to bots around them… with varying degrees of success. He couldn’t see the other table of Generals to Be too well, but he could tell that more than a handful of them were fliers. There were more fliers there, anyway. But they all still seemed quite small compared to the stereotypical Decepticon warframe.

He would just keep his head down, drinking more energon and not wanting to cause any trouble. No one had thus recognized him for his stint in Kaon, which was a blessing. Optimus was feeling a lot less tired after getting some proper energon in him, but he still wanted to rest and get some time to recharge. He’d like to rest somewhere where he felt safe and could actually lay out-

“ATTENTION:” A loud voice came over the com speakers. “All former autobots are to report to the back of the canteen for Identification and Orientation.”

Or not.

Optimus just could not catch a break, could he?

He drank down the last of his cube and squirmed his way out between the two larger mechs. Already, many other bots were hesitantly getting up and going to the back, with non-autobots watching them go. There had to be at least a score and a half of them, Optimus included. Two guards monitored the group shuffling in, and one of them grabbed Optimus’ shoulder as he started to pass. 

“Not you. You come with us.”

* * *

Why was it always like this.

Optimus was marched off by these larger mechs, out of the canteen and out to the hall. It was hard not to meet anyone’s optics as he felt others stare. He could hear the whispers. They either recognized him or they were just whispering about why THIS bot stood out. This was humiliating. 

He would be taken into a smaller room, where he was sat at a table and told to wait. “Lugnut and Blitzwing wanna speak with you.” They’d at least leave him some energon, and then just wait outside. And so, Optimus would wait. Just. Wait. He’d put his head down, exhausted and frustrated at being pushed around, paraded around in front of all these soon to be Decepticons. Why couldn’t he maintain a low profile? Why did everyone have to keep STARING at him? What had he done to incur this constant stream of being recognized?

How did he keep getting into these messes?

Thankfully, as he was starting to doze, he’d be woken by the door opening. And sure enough, Lugnut and Blitzwing walked in. But with them was a smaller bot, a black plated femme with a facemask up who was there typing away on a datapad. It seemed she was here to record what happened here for record keeping. 

“Finally.” Lugnut slammed his servos on the flimsy table, making both Optimus and the femme jump. “I can finally meet the inconsiderate scraplet who would so BLATANTLY desecrate the sanctity of the Gladiatorial Arena! Who are you, worm? Why does Tiretread speak so highly of you?!”

“Perhaps we should start slower.” Blitzwing placed a servo on his companion’s shoulder, and Optimus could see that Lugnut was shaking… “What my… companion means to say is that he has seen your impressive performance in Kaon. We know from your advocate Tiretread that you are a former Autobot. However, with such a performance, Lugnut has insisted that you simply cannot be rank and file. So the question remains: who are you, so capable and well trained, and what were you doing in Kaon?”

Optimus had to stop himself from leaning back in his chair after Lugnut’s outburst, and he scooted forward as he cleared his throat. “...Well. I am uh. Optimus. I came from Iacon after a dishonorable discharge from the Academy, and I had to… move to Kaon to survive. Iacon is an expensive place, I’m sorry to say.” He replied, shoulders sagging. 

“Don’t we know it.” The femme huffed, but Lugnut and Blitzwing paid her no mind. 

“What exactly did you get discharged for? We get many bots like this but-”

“I. I ended up not stopping my juniors from doing something horribly reckless, and as a result one of them died because of that. I took responsibility because I should have said no-”

“Wait. Underlings?” Lugnut leaned in. 

“Yes I was a Prime, you see and-”

“A Prime?!” Lugnut almost looked offended. “Autobot Council Pet, I see! That explains why you’re so well trained...”

Blitzwing nudged him in annoyance. “Still. I’m surprised that they were so willing to let you go.” Even Decepticons knew that Prime was not a title given lightly. “They could have easily demoted you. Or put you on probation.” This was quite a shock. And quite a find. Not many bots came through here that were Prime material. Still, he settled in a chair brought in by the guards. “Well. This conversation will certainly go a few different ways depending on what you say in regards to my next question: How do you feel about the Autobots now? You only benefit from being honest, just so you are aware.”

Optimus wasn’t sure he WOULD benefit, regardless of what he said. And for the first time in a while, he felt… conflicted. He hadn’t thought about the Autobots in a long time. Hadn’t had time to sit and dwell on the injustice foisted upon him. He’d been far too busy trying to survive. But now? He had a moment to reflect. And…

“...I. It’s hard to say. I don’t like what they did to me. I still feel guilty for what happened and blame myself. If I had a stronger backstrut and insisted on saying something, I might not be in this mess. But.” He looked up and between both mechs. “I don’t have the same kind of animosity you have towards Autobots. If push comes to shove, I’ll fight them. This is just a job for me, right now. A means of staying out of the acid rain.” Maybe he’d change. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he felt like he should be honest about THAT much. 

“A common answer.” Blitzwing said, nodding. “Still, this does tell us a few things about you. Perhaps one of these cycles you’d like to discuss your past as well as, ah… any information you might have on how Primes function?”

Of course. “Maybe.” Optimus folded his servos. As much as he could feel the resentment build in his spark, he wasn’t ready to sell out the Bots just like that. The Academy had been unfair to him, but…

“Of course. Now-” He was interrupted by his com pinging. His face finally swiveled, revealing his red angry face. “What do you WANT Blackarachnia? We’re in the middle of something!” Blitzwing would listen, as he was spoken to… and slammed a fist on the table, denting it. “Slag it! Can’t he get anyone-? Ugh! Very well!” He tossed his chair aside and stood. “Lugnut, we’re being called back. Megatron requires our presence. Augh...” He pointed at the femme, who jumped again. “You! Speak with him! And report back to us as soon as possible!” And with that, Blitzwing stormed out, Lugnut following suit.

* * *

“...” the femme was silent once her superiors had left, and she just. Sighed. “...I am SO sorry about this.” She mumbled, moving to sit in one of the chairs. “I know you must be tired, but I am required to keep asking you about your history. At least as far as your experiences go. Just so we know what to expect of you.” She held out a servo to shake. “Uh, the name’s Kinetic. Just. Don’t worry about going into too much detail.” She typed something out on her datapad, saying, “I’m just supposed to give bulletpoints...see?” She showed her datapad, which said, ‘We’re being recorded. Watch what you say.’

“I see.” Optimus said, nodding and shaking her hand. Strange that she’d warn him about that. Maybe she didn’t WANT him to reveal too much... “Well. What do you want to know?’

“Uh well you heard the boss. He wants to know about Prime training programs. Maybe what you know and don’t know?” She suggested, shrugging. “I’m all audials.

“Well...” He probably wouldn’t be released without some sort of information on the Elite Guard. And just refusing would probably get him put under MORE scrutiny. Honestly, all he wanted was to try and find Crasher and Howlback, then get some recharge. “there was the training. We would usually go up against holo-versions of Decepticons, with the biggest challenge being Megatron himself. Data from battles would be used to program the AI… And uh. I guess I was the only one to last very long against him. Highest score according to Ultra Magnus.” Despite his ‘boasting’ he didn’t look very pleased with the idea. 

“That so?” She’d type that out. “How long did you last, if I may ask?”

“Well… The encounter itself maybe lasted a klik. Maybe two. Hard to say when it feels like you’re fighting for your life, y’know?” Basically, he’d not lasted very LONG, but he’d managed to almost get the best of Megatron in his panic. Almost. Then he’d been stabbed in the chest. 

“Wow. For an Academy bot? Not terrible.” Kinetic remarked, nodding. “I know generals who don’t last THAT long against Megatron. But this isn’t about there. Anything else?”

“Hmmm… They put a lot of emphasis on survival training. I actually know how to synthesis my own energon, tend to my own wounds...”

“As expected of an Autobot I guess. Still, that’s a good skill to have, I’m pretty sure most bots here rely on us to get their energon… we have instructions and demonstrations but not all bots can retain that in the heat of battle.” A pause. “Um. So… I know you got discharged for this and I’m sure it’s not great but… what exactly HAPPENED that made the Autobots kick you out…? I mean!” She held up her hands. “I know you just talked about it, if that’s too personal, I’m sorry-!”

“Ah no no it’s. It’s just that I had a friend back at the Academy. Two actually. Elita one and Sentinel Prime. Well, no, Sentinel wasn’t a Prime until after I’d left... We went looking off world for a Decepticon ship and were uh. We ‘ran afoul’ with the local wildlife. We lost Elita in the resulting fight. She...” He sighed deeply. “...It’s weird. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to sit down and think about them. I’ve been thrown from place to place so much that I haven’t had much time to think about anything.”

“Do you miss them?”

“...I do. I miss them so much.”

“...”She reached out and put a servo on his. “I know this might come off as a little off color but. The bots here always look after their own. I know you can’t fix what happened. But I hope that the bots here make you feel like… you won’t be left behind. Um… Well...” She pulled back and coughed, eyes averted and trying to keep those hands to herself. “I think we can stop for now. We can try again later...C’mon, I think they let the other bots out into the Yard.” Kinetic stood up, tucking the datapad in her subspace. “We do things a little differently here: we let all the cadets mingle, no matter the status. If you’d like I can show you where you’ll be recharging at least.”

Optimus just nodded, letting her lead him out of the room. Kinetic was talking about how everything was structured. How bots all had time to themselves, though the hours had been shortened due to need for expedited learning. How she really needed to give him a copy of his schedule. How she was glad that things had worked out alright for him. He really was trying to listen to her. But he was just so unfocused. All he really wanted was to have some more energon then recharge.

* * *

As they walked, he saw they were heading out to where they’d been checked and sorted out. The gates had been taken down, and now bots were mingling. Kinetic was gently pushing him along, to some halls off to the side that were drilled into the walls. It seemed the mines were pretty crowded as it were, and as such, they had to share wings. Black’s and White’s wing were clearly labeled, and Optimus was apparently in Black, according to the arbitrary sorting that had occurred earlier… So he’d head in that way. 

Only then was he confronted by an unfortunately familiar face. 

The bot who’d suffered at Crasher’s servos, the stick thin bot with a long and unfriendly face, was waiting for him. Now that Optimus had a better look at him, he looked… old. His frame type was that of a boxier older speed model, not seen on Cybertron for quite some time. He had a greenish bronze color to his pain, and despite the deep dents in his armor, he seemed no worse for wear. But he looked absolutely annoyed that Optimus was here.“Ah. I see the last cadet has shown up. Kinetic, what exactly did the higher ups want with this one?” He asked, doing nothing to hide his contempt.

“Well, Diesel,” she began, pushing Optimus towards him. “Turns out that the bot here happens to be a former Prime. So we had to interrogate him a little for some Autobot gossip, you know how it is.”

If Diesel was surprised, he never showed it. He just frowned harder, if that was possible, and snorted. “Very well. You missed bunk assignment, Optimus, so there’s only one bunk left. Bunk BLK8. Your roommate will be...” He pulled up a holo screen from his arm. “...Some rust stain called Bludgeon. I don’t envy you in the slightest.”

Optimus’ spark sank. Bludgeon… that had been the bot who’d tried to rip that flier’s wings off…

“Well, I need to get back to work. Need to deliver this report to the Higher ups so Megatron can be read them from a memo.” Kinetic joked, patting Optimus’ shoulder and saluting Diesel. “Go easy on him, ok?”

“No promises.” Diesel replied, not even looking at her. “As for you, oil stain, I’m sending you your schedule so you have no excuse for being late. I’ll be the Black team Whip, or Drill Sargent, so all of you little misbegotten scraplets have to answer to me. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes sir.” He saluted automatically, snapping to attention thanks to unconscious protocols deep in his processor. 

“At ease. You can go run and play with your little friends, for now. But when it’s lights out, it’s light out.” He grunted, eliminating the holo screen and turning away. “Dismissed.” 

Optimus would gladly take any excuse to get out of there.

* * *

It was rough, navigating the area alone. He’d not been alone properly since he’d left Kaon. And at this rate, he wasn’t going to be alone for a long, long time. 

Bots of all shapes and sizes were mingling, talking and just getting settled in. There were so many, but somehow less so than what he’d seen in the orientation. Perhaps it was just how they’d dispersed…? But now that they were out in the open, it was easier to see that a there were less larger mechs than Optimus was led to believe. Despite being squashed between so many during the day, he’d found that they actually made up less than a fourth of the crowd? At least from what he could see. Most of the bots here were average sized ground models. Of course there was a small gaggle of fliers, all clustered up high so that they wouldn’t have to mingle with the rest of the crowd. But there only had to be a dozen at most.

Optimus scanned the crowd, trying to keep himself from being too obvious. Clearly Diesel had remembered his face, and many others might too. As such, he’d keep his head down, looking for Crasher and Howlback. He didn’t dare risk calling for them while in the middle of this mob…

It would take a little while. But eventually Optimus found the pair talking to a handful of larger bots, all of whom seemed to be cheerfully admiring Crasher. She, in turn, was flexing and posing for them. Howlback was not paying the slightest attention to them, and instead was quick to see Optimus as he approached. Bounding over, she let out a pleased noise that Optimus thought was her engine revving.

“There you are. After we all got sorted through, we were looking for you. Where have you been?” She asked, voice low as she circled him. 

“Uh. Well it’s a long story. I was gonna let Crasher finish here, actually.”

“She may be a while. It turns out she’s got fans here.” Howlback huffed, rolling her optics. “She was a pretty up and coming gladiator before she decided it was in her best interest to join the Cons.” The felinoid sat down, yawning. “We saw you being escorted away in the canteen, were you in trouble?”

“No, no! Nothing like that.” He replied, hands up defensively. “They just wanted to ask me questions about how things were back in Iacon. Really wanted to know how I got kicked out.” He couldn’t help but yawn as well. “...I personally just want to get some recharge. It’s been a long solar cycle...”

“Mhm, you’re telling me. We’re supposed to have a refueling period and then time to relax and settle in.” She explained, wearily resting her head on her paws.. “So did you meet your Whip yet? Ours is some saccharine little femme who actually HAS a whip. Gem-something.” Howlback shook her head. “She’s not AWFUL but… Primus she’s weird. I don’t like the way she looks at some bots. Like she wants to drain them of energon or something.”

“I mean she CAN’T be worse than mine. Y’know that bot that Crasher crushed when he made a remark at me? That guy’s the one in charge of my group. His name’s Diesel and he seems to have a default expression of ‘something crawled up my tailpipe and died’, if you know what I mean.” Optimus sighed, folding his arms.

“Hah! Oh you poor thing. That’s hilarious but also, yikes.” Howlback stretched, rolling her shoulders. “Good luck with that. Hm...D’you think Crasher will be done showing off to her fans any time soon? It’s starting to get a bit excessive...” Indeed, Crasher was just showboating at this point, and the other mechs were eating it up…

“Ah, let her have her fun! She’s gonna need all the friends she can get. Friends who aren’t me, I mean.” Optimus snorted. 

“You consider us friends?” The felinoid looked up at him, optics wide. “That seem a bit sudden.”

“Well… Maybe. But you two are the first two to actually not just judge me based on my antics or Autobot roots. It means a lot.”

“...I’m glad to hear it. You’re a good bot, Optimus.”

At that, Crasher finally looked over. “Huh? Optimus, there you are!” She turned and scrambled to meet him, nearly knocking him back as she skid to a stop. “Fellas! You know that bot who took down Gal’thor and Crusader? This is him!”

There was a general uproar as they marveled at how… small Optimus was. Gal’thor and Crusader had been much larger mechs, with Gal’thor easily double Optimus’ size… There was a lot of crowding as they examined him, prodding and looking him over. 

“You know what they’ve been callin’ you, Optimus? The bots who’re fans of your fight? They’ve started calling you Showstopper! Or at least that’s what these bots have been tellin’ me.” Crasher explained, chortling as the others nodded and agreed… loudly.

“Uh-!” Optimus was quick to slip out of Crasher’s half hug. “Well, that’s very kind of them all but i’m not really interested in getting too deep into gladiatorial history. I’m already pretty deep in over my helm-”

“Nonsense!” Crasher laughed. “They love you, and aren’t particularly mad that you disrupted such a huge match. A lot were speculating it would have been a boring match had you not interfered. Lots of insider talk about what those twos’ managers were talking about behind the scenes. C’mon! Hang out with us a bit!” 

There was no room to say no, as Optimus was washed away in the small tide of Gladiator fans. 

Well, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting beat up for losing some bots shanix.

* * *

Kinetic had just typed out her report. And while she wasn't looking forward to the response, she was glad to be rid of it. The report itself would be sent directly to Blitzwing and Lugnut, with a copy sent to their personal terminals of theirs on Nemesis. 

Both cons were still trying to get over the idea that an actual Prime had joined their ranks. Such a revelation was ... honestly strange to them. They shouldn’t be so excited about this, as this was just advanced Autobot scum. But the idea of such a formerly loyal and obedient Autobot, who put in the deca-cycles of hard work, being dismissed... surely he should feel upset! Betrayed! But he just seemed downtrodden... 

Blitzwing was more perplexed as to why he wouldn’t just become a gladiator. He had the perfect set of circumstances to be a star. To give that up to struggle in the wastes with the rest of them, to fight like starving turbohounds out in the middle of nowhere, to stand up against his former masters... instead of be tended to and cared for in Kaon where at least one had a more stable fate.

Had Blitzwing merely asked Lugnut, the answer would have been clear.

Lugnut knew exactly how Optimus felt. Tiretread had told him Optimus' story. How he had been thrown out by the Autobots so horribly and had found a new purpose within Megatron's ranks. To think he’d managed to survive for so long out on the hard streets of Kaon. Lugnut himself had survived and eventually thrived as a gladiator, until he’d been enlisted by Megatron as part of his coup against Megazarak. Megatron had given him meaning! More than just the pointless battles in the arena, where one’s reward was just tangible but temporary things. Megatron would give this bot a new life, a better life!

Of course, his compassion was not out of care. It was simply him deciding how to process this... this defiler of tradition. Despite his devotion to Megatron, he was not about to forget what made him what he was today. He still cared deeply for the rites of the Gladiators. Granted, he was probably ignorant to what sort of disgrace and social blunder he'd committed so he could forgive him for that. But the fact that he was clearly friends with a gladiator, who didnt seem bothered by his disregard for tradition...!

Impudent sparklings.

Still. Despite his faux pas, Lugnut had to admit the scrawny Council's pet was strong. And if not strong, resourceful. A good thing to be in the Decepticons. 

Should he inform Megatron of this?

On one servo, he could be tapping into something great. Something that should be nurtured into a great and glorious Decepticon general. And of course he, Lugnut, would be praised for such a find! But, if he was wrong, and he endorses this bot too much, he would be ridiculed... and reduce his standing in Megatron's optics.

Maybe he should look at these other reports first. Before he made a choice.

* * *

That. Had been something.

What was with him and getting smashed between larger bots lately? 

Optimus spent all of their little free period with those bots, and they’d all dragged him in when it was time for refueling. Normally he was to sit with his fellow Generals to Be, but it seemed that they weren’t particularly hard set on that rule. So long as you didn’t cause a ruckus, you could it where you wanted. He’d spent the entire time stuck between Crasher and another friend of hers, unable to leave until the Whips had told them that they were to leave so the place could be cleaned.

He dragged himself back to his bunk, exhausted and ready to recharge. Optimus kept his helm down, unwilling to make optic contact with any of the other group members. He could hear them chatting in the halls, or lingering in each others doorways. But he never bumped into them, never so much as brushed past them. Probably because they were moving to let him pass? Who knew. He was too tired to even look up.

He reached his bunk… and walked into a large frame. 

Stumbling back, he saw that his roommate had been making to leave. Bludgeon looked surprised that someone had collided with him… then frowned, sweeping him aside with one arm. “Out of the way. I’m gettin’ cleaned up. The bunk on the left is yous, slagheap.” He stomped off, clearing quite the path as other bots dove away from his heavy pedfalls…

Well. Optimus wasn’t going to complain that he’d be gone for a while.

The bunk and overall room itself was terribly plain. But he didn’t much care. All he saw was the berth he’d be recharging in. 

Griminess be damned.

He crawled onto the berth, and just shut down for the night. 

Tomorrow would be another day.


End file.
